


Castling

by svana_vrika



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Jutsu, M/M, Mission Fic, Ninja, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Shadow bondage, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To protect the king, you need to develop the rook</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castling

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** This story is an original work of fan-fiction. Naruto and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of Masashi Kishimoto. I just borrowed the lot for a few thousand words of entertainment. No copyright infringements are intended, and I will make no profit from their use. 
> 
> **Warnings** Slight spoilers for the Guardian Twelve Arc (Anime)
> 
>  **Author’s notes** Minor mention of other canon characters and original characters. Unbetaed. All mistakes are my own

_”Shikaku?”_

_Shikaku heard his mother’s voice but ignored it. The sun was huge in the sky, and **so** bright. He had training he needed to do, and he eased himself further back under the cover of the out shed. Under normal circumstances, the hen that stood at the feeder across the yard would have been too far beyond his reach, and Shikaku briefly lamented the fact that he was only ten. He couldn’t wait until he’d grown. He’d be bigger and taller than his father and everyone would awe and respect him; nobody would even remember his old man._

_Shikaku brought his hands up in front of his chest. For now though, he would work with what he had, hone those skills to perfection so that, when the time came and he had more shadow to control, he would be ready. It really was a delicate jutsu- **if** you weren’t worried about killing your target, though even that took a particular finesse; the right balance of volume and pressure. Not to mention you needed to be fast; a single cloud skittering across the sky could mean the difference between life and death in some-_

_“Shikaku!”_

_His mother’s voice was closer now and her voice held **that** tone to it: a waver of anxiety that meant that she was worried about something. Ninety percent of the time that particular tone was driven by old man somehow and, swearing under his breath, Shikaku dropped his hands and stepped out of the shadows. “Yes, Mother,” he droned in a bored tone of voice and he started across the yard, wondering what had her so worked up this time. Shikaku supposed he loved her, after a fashion, but he held no respect for her beyond the fact that she’d birthed him. She was too meek and timid; too delicate. Worried and fearful, and more like a servant to his old man than anything else. And Shikaku didn’t feel close to her because of it. Because he knew his mother saw him through those eyes first: **how is this child going to cause me trouble today**. Looking at him through those eyes as she did, Shikaku was never good enough for her._

_His old man was even more troublesome, but in a completely different way. He commanded respect and, Shikaku supposed, he was worthy of it for his taijutsu and ninjutsu skills, even though Shikaku loathed how he intimidated and bullied **everyone**. It was embarrassing, the way his father acted, and he’d been able to tell when he’d started the academy that people thought he’d be that way too. He’d surprised them, though; had proven them wrong. He wasn’t as good as his father with the jutsu- **yet** \- but he was learning. And Shikaku knew they’d not been anticipating the ‘Nara boy’ to show his level of intelligence and analytical ability, let alone his kinder demeanor. A sense of grim satisfaction briefly shadowed Shikaku’s mind as he came to a halt in front of his mother. He **would** bring a sense of true nobility to the Nara family name; bring it on par with the Akamichi and Yamanaka. People **would** respect his bloodline someday and for real reasons; not just due to his old man’s fear mongering ways._

_“Oh, Shikaku! Look at you!” Shikaku’s fingers lightly twitched at his mother’s mournful tone. “You can’t go dressed like that. Hurry on now, change quickly. We simply cannot be late!”_

_Shikaku’s gut squirmed lightly with her near-frantic tone and his mind raced back through the handful of conversations he’d had with his parents the last couple of days. His dark eyes rolled. “The baby thing. Right.” He looked up at the sky and then to the woman again. “I’m not going, Mother,” he promptly decided. “It’s a **baby**. It’s not even going to know I wasn’t there so it doesn’t make any sense for me to go. I’ve got training to do.” He gave a reasonable facsimile of a respectful nod and then turned- or tried to. He was unable to move, he realized; barely able to breathe and, this time, when his gut squirmed, it was out of fear. _

_To Shikaku’s credit, he didn’t gag or flinch; he just stood his ground and stared straight ahead as his father came forward from behind him. “This is an important event to Konoha,” Nara Shikaomo began in a casual tone that sent a trickle of sweat down Shikaku’s spine. “Sarutobi Hiruzen-sama has been given a son. The three noble families will stand with him as the villagers rejoice. But that is not why you will go.” His father’s voice abruptly hardened to match the vitriol in his eyes as the shadow tightened hard enough to pull Shikaku from his feet. “You will go because I, your father, am telling you to!” he bit out before giving him a harsh shake and then releasing him roughly to the ground. “Get up and go get changed. And if I am disgraced by a late arrival due to your impudence there will be hell to pay.”_

“This decision has nothing to do with you! I made a commitment and I plan on following through!”

The angry voice tore through the heavy wood of the Hokage’s office door; Shikaku blinked as he was pulled from the unbidden memory. His lips abruptly pressed and he gave a single shake of his head. Asuma had been at it a good ten minutes now, but Shikaku would bet anything the boy had walked in with some chip on his shoulder. That had been how he’d left the village, anyway, and Shikaku wondered what had drawn him back. It certainly hadn’t been anticipated. Hell, the only reason he knew the boy was back was because there was no mistaking his voice, muffled though it was by the walls. _Idiot,_ Shikaku thought dourly and a flicker of sympathy ran through him for the sandaime. His Shikamaru had more sense at seven than Asuma, it seemed. An amused smirk briefly showed. Then again, Yoshino would have Shikamaru’s ass if he so much as thought of speaking out of turn like that. 

“You’re being paranoid! I’m in no more danger now than I’ve ever been!”

Shikaku’s brow quirked at that and then his dark eyes narrowed. He wasn’t certain what he’d been summoned for but it suddenly came to him that the timing of it and Asuma’s return weren’t likely coincidental. _twenty-two years later and the kid’s still a pain in my ass,_ he thought wryly, though his curiosity was admittedly piqued. 

“…leaving! I never should have come back in the first place!” 

Shikaku’s eyes rolled slightly. Then again, it didn’t sound as if it’d be much longer before it was sated. The door burst open then and Shikaku straightened; a smirk ghosted across his lips when Asuma stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide. “What are you doing here?” he blurted, obviously having been caught off-guard, and then he looked away – though whether embarrassed from his exclamation or at having been overheard, Shikaku wasn’t certain.

“Duty, largely,” Shikaku drawled. He paused to let the barb hit, his smirk widening when Asuma’s body language told him that it had struck. “But if you’re meaning specifically-“ Shikaku let his teeth show in a slow grin. “-well, I suppose that’s not really your business.” 

Asuma’s face went red; without a word he shouldered past and stalked down the hall. Shikaku snorted under his breath as he watched the once-lauded Eldest Son of the Sandaime’s self-righteous retreat. Shikaku’s boyhood wasn’t so long gone that he’d forgotten his own drive to obtain approval and validation. But there were different ways to go about it. And, given the type of man Sarutobi Hiruzen was, Asuma had chosen wrong. Hell, to most of the villagers in the know, Asuma had.

“Come in, Shikaku.”

Shikaku let the train of thought go with the summons; pausing just over the threshold, he stopped, stood at attention and then bowed, having been exempted by the sandaime from going to his knee long before. “Hokage-sama.” He straightened; moved to advance further. 

“Please, close the door.” Shikaku nodded, expression unwavering, and turned to do as he’d been bidden. Inside his head, however, he smirked. If he was wrong and this didn’t involve Asuma somehow, he’d buy a house-round at Kanso’s on his way back home, that’s how certain he was. Because, if Yoshino were to find out he’d done that, there’d be hell to pay. He did roll his eyes this time, but in amusement. She was a good woman, as far as they went, and at least she had a backbone and tongue. She loved their boy and was a good mother too him, and she cared about him; Shikaku really couldn’t complain. It had been out of obligation alone that he’d taken a wife, he wouldn’t deny that. But he’d chosen a good one, and he was fond of Yoshino in turn.

“I’m certain you know what this is about,” the sandaime said wryly as Shikaku turned back toward the desk and approached- as if he’d read Shikaku’s mind, and Shikaku wouldn’t half-doubt it. The third hokage was deceptively kind. Genuinely so, yes, but that kindness hid a wily mind and steel will that few were truly aware of. “At least in a general sense.”

“Asuma.” It was stated more than asked; the hokage nodded and, after a second’s thought, Shikaku continued with, “The threatened rift amidst the Guardian 12 has become fact- and Asuma refuses to listen to reason and cut ties while he still can.”

“Hn. Astute, as always.” The sandaime’s lips thinned slightly and he shook his head. “Then again, I would not be surprised if the entire staff wasn’t aware, for the fuss he made.” The hokage’s gaze shifted to the window. “It would seem my son still hasn’t quite learned his place,” he quietly said.

Shikaku nodded; it was true on myriad levels, he believed, but that wasn’t for him to say. The silence stretched between them, the third’s eyes still locked on the glass as if searching the horizon for his wayward son. “I never minded him accepting the invitation, you know,” he finally said, though his gaze remained on the window. “It’s a post of great honor, to the shinobi and his family both. It was due to the reasons that drove his desire that I tried to dissuade him from it. But I couldn’t make him see that he didn’t have to go and do some grandiose thing to find what it was he’d been seeking. In the end, I had no choice but to let him go. The sandaime finally looked back to Shikaku. “Things are different now. My son is at risk, but now, Konoha is also.” Shikaku found himself suddenly pinned by the hokage’s gaze. “This fissure will split. It is only a matter of time. And, when it does, we cannot allow Asuma to be taken.” 

There was another moment of silence as Shikaku ran over what he’d been told, both verbally and through inference, parsing out the spaces between the lines. “You don’t need me,” he finally opined as he studied the sandaime’s gaze. “You need Okami.” 

“Yes. While there are others who would be capable of monitoring Asuma and the overall situation, I need someone who can flip the mission from reconnaissance to retrieval should the need arise. When the breach occurs, Asuma must be brought back to Konoha without fail, before he can be captured and used for leverage. And I would rather prefer that my son be brought back alive,” the hokage stated with wry humor, though he quickly sobered again. “His sense of duty to his post is strong and he is determined to ride this out regardless to the end cost. Knowing that, he will likely fight the retrieval and try to run. Okami is the only ANBU I have whose jutsu I trust to successfully carry out both requirements of this mission.”

“To capture Sarutobi Asuma, when needs must, and bring him back to Konoha alive.” 

“That is correct.” 

Shikaku ran through myriad scenarios in his mind. The capture piece of the mission would be cake for any of the hokage’s ANBU. It was making sure Asuma was brought back alive that would be the issue. Asuma was tall and solid; all muscle, and fast for his size. He’d excelled at taijutsu and had mastered his _Katon: Haisekisho_ on top of the ‘E’ and ‘D’ ranked, and a few more advanced, ninjutsu before he’d left the village all those years back; Kami only knew what other tricks the boy had picked up, especially after joining the _Shugonin Junishi_. And, while it was true that all ANBU were loyal to the hokage, most of them looked poorly upon Asuma. They saw his decision to defy his father’s wishes and leave the village as a betrayal; while they would do their best to carry out both sides of the hokage’s request, it was just as likely that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill Asuma over letting him escape. Most would feel the personal sacrifices of a failed mission and the sandaime’s disappointment would be ones worth making for the better good of their commander and village. “I agree,” Shikaku finally said. “Okami is the best choice you have to ensure the complete success of this mission.” Dark eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Though that certainty comes at a price. Asuma is one of our own which puts Okami at significant risk.” 

“I am aware of that.” And Shikaku had no doubt from the heaviness of the third’s voice; the weight that seemed to settle onto his shoulders. “But I also know that, if anyone will come to understand the logic behind my choice- beyond that of Asuma’s safe retrieval- Okami will.” 

There was a brief moment of silence and then Shikaku gave a single nod. “Very well. I’ll make ready then.” He gave the hokage a proper bow, his mind racing through quick calculations; by the time he took care of things at home and got ready, Asuma would have a good lead, but not so much of one that Shikaku wouldn’t easily pick up on it. He straightened and bid his farewells; as he turned to the door, Shikaku let his smirk come. It had been a fair while since Okami had been out to play and he was looking forward to it.  
~*~  
The Daimyo’s seat was a good, two-day journey from Konoha for any Shinobi worth their mettle. Traveling ANBU could easily knock a quarter off that time, but it was slower when one was trailing- and Asuma and his companion weren’t in any hurry. Shikaku had caught up to them quickly once he’d left the village. That had been early-afternoon; night was only an hour or so old now and they appeared to already be settling in- at a point that was only half the distance the two should have made in that time. Shikaku watched until the spark that told of the lighting of a fire confirmed it; with a single shake of his head, he leapt backward by three or four trees and then made a wide berth around until he was downwind of the two.

Jumping a few branches higher into the canopy, Shikaku drew closer again, eventually settling himself into a natural- and fairly comfortable- seat in an older oak. It was closer than he would have chosen in some circumstances but, given the steady direction of the very gentle breeze and the scent and sound of the fire, Shikaku knew he would not be detected. He would move back later once they let the fire start to die but, for the time being, he’d maintain his position and listen to the talk. It would at least make him feel more as if he was on a mission versus a no-expenses paid baby-sitting trip. Shikaku snorted silently with the thought. Who was he kidding? That’s exactly what this mission was- at least, at this point. 

“I still can’t believe the old man doesn’t understand…” 

Shikaku’s eyes rolled behind his ANBU mask, irritation causing them to flash; causing his desire to snag his prey by the throat and drag it back to the den like the wolf he was to augment. Shadows served as Okami’s fangs and even the scant light thrown from the flickering fire would be sufficient to let him bite deeply enough to capture and restrain- to kill if he so desired it. Shikaku then realized his upper lip had drawn up into a snarl of disgust; taking a centering breath, he eased the thoughts from him before his killing intent could truly surface. He didn’t _really_ want the kid dead; more importantly, the sandaime didn’t. He did, however, think that Asuma had a _lot_ to learn about loyalty to his pack. If Asuma truly understood a fraction of what he claimed he knew, he wouldn’t have left Konoha. Or, at the very least, he would have stayed when his father had asked him to earlier that day. And Shikaku wouldn’t be facing what could turn into who knew how long away from work and home. 

Another one of those silent snorts lightly vibrated against Shikaku’s mask. If that didn’t make him sound old, he didn’t know what would. But then, that was precisely why the sandaime had been willing to risk the exposure of Okami’s identity on this mission. He’d realized that as he’d made ready to go- in between Yoshino’s curiosity and complaint. _If_ it came to using his _Kage_ jutsu to bring Asuma in, there was little doubt that he would be found out. That jutsu was specific to the Nara clan and, while Shikaku wasn’t the only user, or the only Nara within the ANBU ranks, there wasn’t a relative alive that could match his skill. At that particular point in time, the _Kage Nui no Jutsu_ was his alone, which was likely what he would need to bring Asuma in alive. It wouldn’t matter that Asuma was the Hokage’s son; once Okami’s identity was found out, he’d be done. Not even Yoshino knew that Shikaku was Okami. But, at thirty-three years old, Okami _was_ expendable. There weren’t many ANBU who made it to his age; they either retired to normal Shinobi life well before then, or were killed. A slight scowl settled onto Shikaku’s lips. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be even more pissed off if it came to that, though. Okami had been a part of him- something that belonged solely to him- for a long time. And, he realized, he resented the likely loss of that more than he did Asuma’s asinine behavior. 

“…surprised if he went back to the Daimyo after we left for Konoha.” Shikaku’s focus shifted to his quarry at that; it seemed Asuma was done playing the part of the maligned brat and they were getting down to business. “Kazuma only has your word that the Daimyo doesn’t agree with his desire to see the Hokage eliminated, and he doesn’t trust you.” Chiriku, the monk with whom Asuma was traveling, gave a slight shrug. “I don’t know that he ever did, really, you being the hokage’s son and all. Maybe at first, but not since he got this asinine idea in his head.” Chiriku poked absently at the dying fire. “I wish I knew where it had come from. If I could understand that, maybe I could talk him out of it.” 

Asuma lit up a cigarette and Shikaku drew a deep, discreet breath in. He’d quit the continual habit years ago but would still smoke when he drank; the scent triggered a desire for both, and now he had another reason to be pissed at the kid. Kami only knew how long it would be before he could indulge in either. “Who knows.” Asuma’s voice was heavy, pensive, and Shikaku arched a brow. Asuma’s tenor told that he was troubled by the thought on a level deeper than Shikaku had thought him capable. “Corruption sets in for myriad reasons, some of them actually noble at their start.” He took another drag from his cigarette; exhaled. “Or, maybe it’s not corruption at all. People change; ideals shift. Maybe he truly thinks this is better for _Hi no Kuni_ overall. If that’s the case, and he is pushing for this for what he sees as the greater good, then I have no right to judge or fault him. Hell, if his desires weren’t a threat to my family and home, I might have joined him along with the others.” Asuma took a final drag and then tossed the butt into the embers. “Because really, that’s what’s important. What’s best for our land as a whole. Not what’s best for one man or another.” He was silent for a moment and then, after telling Chiriku to wake him for his watch, Asuma stood, stretched and retired to their bedrolls. 

Shikaku’s gaze followed as he contemplated what he’d heard. It certainly hadn’t been expected. He knew Asuma’s position was deemed an honorable appointment but he’d truly believed- along with the sandaime, apparently- that Asuma had taken it for no other reason than the hope of garnering his father’s approval. Of proving that he was reliable and worthy, just like the younger brother that Asuma believed was so favored over him. However, if that had been the case at first, Asuma seemed to have grown past it. He truly did seem dedicated to the cause now- at least that of protecting _Hi no Kuni_ overall. 

_Interesting,_ Shikaku thought as he silently pushed himself up and prepared to move back a few more feet before settling in for the night, but then he stopped. Chiriku had gotten up too and was moving toward Asuma with a stealthiness that put Shikaku on edge; eyes narrowing, Shikaku poised himself to spring and continued to watch. 

Chiriku stopped several feet away and, at first, he just stared down at the sleeping figure. After several moments he eventually moved again, quasi-concealing himself in the thinner trees that lined the clearing’s edge; the behavior too odd for him to ignore, Shikaku went a few branches higher into the canopy so that he could move in closer. Asuma was flanked by them now and Shikaku crouched on the branch he’d chosen, ready to put himself between Asuma and the monk. Chiriku moved and Shikaku tensed- and then Shikaku’s brow slowly arched behind his mask. He’d been expecting an attack of some sort, not to see the monk pull his dick free from his robe and start jacking off, eyes locked on Asuma again. 

Shikaku wondered, as he idly watched, if Asuma had a clue. Somehow he doubted it. They’d been alone for hours and none of Asuma’s behaviors, or the conversation between Asuma and Chiriku, had suggested it. That said, it was pretty clear that it was more than just a need to get off on Chiriku’s part; that there was at least a base attraction there if nothing else. Shikaku supposed he couldn’t blame Chiriku; Asuma was decent enough to look at and had a good physique- and apparently some intelligence to him. Shikaku’s eyes narrowed intently as he watched Chiriku come and then he muttered a curse under his breath when he realized _he_ was hard. Scowling now, Shikaku left Chiriku to finish and moved through the canopy to a point where he could safely watch Asuma through the night. _Damned kid_ , he thought dourly as he gingerly settled back into the branches again. First the nicotine, and now he had to talk his dick into behaving instead of taking the more pleasurable way out. Sarutobi Asuma truly was a pain in his ass. 

~*~

It had been a fair while since Shikaku had been to _Odoru Honō No Sato_ , the village that boasted the daimyo’s seat. The times he _had_ been, it had been with the sandaime as his strategist and, as Shikaku stood at the window of the hideout house and looked out upon the small town, he had to admit, it felt odd to be there in his current capacity. Then again, he wasn’t the first to come into the daimyo’s seat as a spy. It was one of many villages in which there was continual Konoha ANBU presence. 

Shikaku had known that going in; though this village hadn’t been one he’d covered, he’d rotated through several others until the necessity of starting a family had made that particular sort of mission impractical- at least, on a regular basis. And he’d not been surprised when, shortly after he’d seen Asuma safely enter the daimyo’s residence, a member of the current cell had joined him at his vantage point to spell him. The decision had been made shortly before Okami had been called back into service that ANBU weren’t to be sent out on their own. It had finally been deemed too risky, though more for the village than for the shinobi. But there would always be times when it would be a necessity; extremely delicate _S_ ranked missions or those deemed even higher. Or, when stealth and cunning were too vital to the mission’s success to send out more than one, as was Shikaku’s case. In those instances, the agent was always spelled as soon as they reached a point where other ANBU were stationed.

The break was never very long; Shikaku had been relieved not even twelve hours ago and, once he’d dressed, he’d be heading to the rendezvous point to take over again. It had been long enough, though. He’d slept- _true_ sleep- and had eaten his fill of decent food, not energy bars or pills. He’d showered, had a few drinks and a smoke, had showered, slept and eaten again; had packed Okami away for a few hours and had just been Shikaku again, which put Okami at his prime once more as his mask was put on and he leapt from the window to the closest rooftop.

The rendezvous point had been communicated via messenger bird not long before Shikaku had left, it several degrees to the west of the original and in a small thicket of fruit trees within the daimyo’s gardens. It was a good vantage point as far as overall surveillance went, but Shikaku had to arch a brow for the coverage it provided. The trees were still very young and a good breeze would likely set the slender branches and smaller leaves to sway enough to reveal their location to anyone watching- and Shikaku was certain the daimyo, or at least his group of guardians, had eyes on the grounds at all times. As lightly as he could, Shikaku landed, but it was still enough to send the shadows skittering; casting a rather disdainful look at the waiting ANBU from behind his mask, Shikaku drew the shadows back together again and wove them into a more stable and concealing, yet still natural, net. “Poor choice, Risu,” he commented evenly. “Especially when the reporting agent is unfamiliar with the lay of the land and is trusting the safety of their mission and presence to your decision.” 

“Apologies, Okami-san,” came the smooth response. “There has been some unanticipated activity between the guardian’s quarters and the mansion. This location was the best available between the two and I knew that, if necessary, you’d be able to provide additional cover without alerting anyone to our presence.” 

Shikaku accepted the explanation with a nod. It was a viable enough one. They’d all been forced to take shit cover to compensate for something unexpected. “What’s going on?” 

“Asuma-san and Chiriku left the daimyo’s residence approximately an hour after you were relieved. They retired to the barracks as expected. Everything followed normal pattern until about forty-five minutes ago when the guardian called Kazuma-“ 

Risu cut himself off when Okami lifted a hand and quickly closed it into a fist. As if mention of the man had called him forth, Kazuma tore out of the daimyo’s villa with two others close behind. “Shit, it’s happened,” Shikaku lowly ground out, it obvious that the two were with Kazuma and not in pursuit. Asuma followed from the same exit a few seconds later and Shikaku’s eyes briefly went wide and then sharply narrowed. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath and he took a quick scan of the surrounding grounds; saw Chiriku tear off after Asuma, but from the barracks. Chiriku must have shouted something to Asuma because he paused, gestured back to the barracks and shouted something back. “I’m off,” Shikaku muttered to Risu when Asuma promptly resumed his chase, and then hell _truly_ broke loose. The explosion that went off somewhere within the daimyo’s mansion set off a chain that culminated in a blinding flash that tore through the grounds. 

Before Shikaku regained his vision he could smell, and then feel, approaching fire; an arm was flung out in Risu’s general direction in a quick, desperate attempt to snag him but, when he came up empty, Shikaku tucked into himself, tossed himself back into a roll and then got to his feet and pushed off. He still couldn’t see and, from his assessment of his surrounds, knew he would land in open ground, but his exposure was secondary at the moment. He had to get himself out of the fire’s path- though it was at least burning hot enough to where, if he _was_ caught in the blaze, his identity would remain a mystery anyway, he grimly thought as he landed from his initial push and then started to run. 

Shikaku could still feel the heat behind him but it wasn’t as intense. He knew he couldn’t stop, but he could, at least, slow to where he could focus outward more as he ran; expand his consciousness so that he could pick up on the subtler nuances of his environment. Sound wouldn’t serve him; the chaos was too rampant. But he could seek out those things that he could sense beneath the panic and noise; the slight, sometimes miniscule, changes in temperature and light that spoke of the shadows. Something small ran by him to his left. An animal; he could tell by the way the gait brushed against his projection. Thin, spikey variances of cool and light spoke of a small grouping of trees… _There!_ A minute drop in temperature but long and smooth. Shikaku knew it was a building and, as soon as he sensed the shift back to normal light, he turned sharply to the right and faded back into its shadow. 

The press of solid matter against Shikaku’s back made him stop. The heat had faded even more and that he’d found shadows at all told that the flash bomb had been a short-lived one meant to create enough chaos for an unnoticed getaway. Shikaku wondered if the daimyo was dead; what the hell was going on, but let the thought pass as quickly as it’d come. That wasn’t his mission, and he scowled as recalled how Asuma had torn off after Kazuma. Scowling, Shikaku slowly opened his eyes despite the twinging pain between them that warned that he probably shouldn’t. He didn’t have any more time to spend in this mess. He had his own to take care of. 

Everything seemed overly bright, like Shikaku had just stepped outside with a fuck of a hangover. The floaters in his eyes further mimicked that experience, as did the way the twinge shot through his head to stir things up nicely in his stomach. “Fuck,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes; that helped with the sharpness some, and Shikaku snorted in amusement as he assessed his environs again. And Yoshino had preached at him that no good would come from his drinking.

Judging from his point of origin and where the mansion and barracks had been in reference, Shikaku figured he was somewhere toward the back of the property. A groundskeeper’s cottage, perhaps, or a small guest residence. From where Shikaku stood now, he couldn’t see house or garrisons either one and he edged closer to the foremost corner. As he glanced around it he saw that the mansion was on fire and that most of the grounds between it and the barracks was scorched. The grove where he’d rendezvoused with Risu was still burning along with several smaller fires which would eventually burn themselves out; Shikaku briefly wondered if Risu had made it as he observed the mustered brigade rush up to the mansion, but he had to let that thought pass. Risu wasn’t his mission, nor was finding out whether or not the Daimyo had survived. Finding Asuma’s ass and dragging it back to Konoha was. _Wherever the fuck **he** is,_ he thought dourly of his ‘prey’.

With the mansion on parallel to the right of his position, and given that the building he’d sequestered himself behind was unscathed, Shikaku figured he was at the far end of the property. A look around the opposite corner confirmed that, and Shikaku was glad to see that the fencing- and the wood on the other side- was just a few yards away. Once he got into the trees, it would just be a matter of circling back toward the barracks and then heading East. Neither Kazuma nor Asuma had been concerned about stealth so picking up on their trail wouldn’t be hard. But first- Shikaku pivoted sharply, kunai drawn and at throat level by the time he completed the quick 180. “Risu.” Shikaku lowered the kunai as two other Konoha ANBU joined them behind the building. 

“Okami-san. I’m glad to find you alive. Asuma-san-“

“Took off after Kazuma and his cohorts- East, between the barracks and mansion, and into the wood. I’m making pursuit.” 

“Okami-san, you shou-“ 

“Risu!” Shikaku cut him off in a bark. “Asuma has at least a ten minute lead, was running in high pursuit, and with the advantage of being familiar with the territory. The men he went after are zealots and desperate, which means that every second I stand dealing with you puts Asuma not only further away but at risk for being killed. Your opinions on what I should or shouldn’t do are irrelevant.” His eyes narrowed further behind his mask. “But let me make up for a fraction of the time you’ve already cost me. You.” Shikaku pointed to the _zou_ mask. “Keep watch on things here, especially the comings and goings at the mansion. You.” The _kuma_ mask came next. “Station yourself at the village gate and do the same. And Rizu, get a message to the Hokage about what happened here and that Asuma is alive and I’m in pursuit. Let him know I commandeered your cell and gave orders as I saw fit based on the situation _that you are to follow_ until he can rescind and reissue as he wants.” Wryly, “Tell him your concerns with my decisions if you want. I’m sure he’ll be _delighted_. Then I want you on the daimyo- or the interim if he didn’t survive the attack.” he concluded, and then sharply, “Go!” He shook his head slowly as the three of them scattered and then Shikaku took off himself; a long leap to the top of the high, stone fence and then a shorter one from there to disappear into the wood. 

~*~  
Shikaku had been right- to a point. The entry point into the wood had been simple to find, but the trail had been utterly decimated less than a quarter-mile in. From what he could piece together, Kazuma and the other two had split, with a decent arsenal of explosive tags and fire bombs between them. The undergrowth had been seared away, the massive tree trunks were scorched, the leaves on their lowest branches either burned off or withered from the heat. The occasional animal carcass littered the ground, either the very young or very old who hadn’t been able to react to the danger in time, and cries of the survivors came through the eerily quiet air. Fox. Bird. Bear. Deer. It made him sick, the wanton destruction, and he knew he’d be spending a fair bit of time amongst the trees of _Shika-shinrin_ when he returned home, to soothe the sights and scents from his mind. Shikaku’s jaw tensed and then relaxed again. He’d take the boy with him. Shikamaru had been with him before and the guardians were familiar with him. But he needed to teach his son the wards. One never knew what might happen. 

From a tactical standpoint, the destruction had served its purpose. It had been fanned out and staged: Shikaku was making his way through the third near-perfect semi-circle of decimation and flame. The first and second had been left with minimal space them- just enough, Shikaku suspected, to where they could come back together to mimic the pattern and then shift which shinobi took which point for the next series of detonations. Any clues inadvertently left behind would be destroyed by the fires and explosions set behind them, making tracking exceedingly difficult even for an elite cell which, at that moment, Shikaku would have given his left nut for, Asuma’s guaranteed safe return be damned. A plan worthy of shinobi skilled enough to be appointed to the _Shugonin Junishi_ , he grimly thought, and he wondered what had triggered it. 

Kazuma had wanted the hokage deposed, not the daimyo. From the report Shikaku had gotten from the sandaime, Asuma had communicated that fact and the depth of the rift within the faction had been exposed. Shikaku’s eyes narrowed as he berthed high and to the left to avoid another fire. Though Chiriku had hypothesized on their way out from Konoha that Kazuma had personally gone to the Daimyo afterward; did his belief in giving the feudal lord full military control run so deeply that he’d have plotted an assassination? Eliminate the current daimyo and push for a puppet in his place- whisper words of proving his authority and power by ridding _Hi no Kuni_ of the man who could take it all away: the Hokage. 

Shikaku scowled as he came back down from the tree-tops and into the canopy. He had no way of confirming his suspicions but it was the only thing that made sense in light of Kazuma’s abrupt, and drastic, move. He thought about Asuma then and his scowl deepened. Best he could figure, the kid was still alive; there’d been no human corpses in the swathes Kazuma’s company had left behind them. And Shikaku knew they were still on the run. The area he was currently working through had more active fires than the last and was still hot enough to be uncomfortable. As it was, he was going to have to alter either his pace or his route so that he didn’t end up getting caught in the next, and he wondered what sort of condition Asuma was in being closer on their tails. _Fucking idiot,_ he growled to himself as he dodged a cedar that abruptly exploded from the overheated sap within. 

Shikaku understood now that Asuma truly did want was best for his country as a whole. That, regardless as to what Asuma’s mindset had been when he’d started off on his little quest, his purpose and determination had matured past the microcosm of ‘self’. And that was admirable, despite how their personal foci on achieving that differed. But the moves he made were desperate and hot-headed instead of measured, and that’s what Shikaku didn’t get. The only logical thing was that, on some level, Asuma was still trying to prove himself; to show his worth. Or was it to find it? Shikaku’s eyes narrowed in thought and then, after a moment or two, his lips pressed and he gave a single shake of his head. It likely did boil down to the Sandaime, after al- 

“Shit!” Shikaku threw his arms up in time to catch a branch as he plummeted down past it. The explosion had been much closer than the others and, as he leapt back several yards into the crescent he’d been near exiting, he realized he’d been lucky to have been on one of the outer edges of it versus the center or he likely would have been caught in the backlash. Silently bitching himself out for letting his thoughts distract him, Shikaku started moving again- exiting the swathe this time when he reached the edge of it. Given how the explosion had rocked the forest around him, Shikaku knew he was close. His best bet now would be to circle wide and get in front of them- and, hopefully, get a line on Asuma in the process. If not, he’d have no choice but to go back and do a more thorough recon of the bands of decimation and their perimeters. 

The further out Shikaku swung from the damage, the fresher and greener things got- and he found himself breathing easier. Wanton death and destruction could drive a shinobi’s determination like few other things, but hope tended to die when everything around it did. Plus, he was more used to scouting through the living green. He became part of it, swiftly, almost invisibly, blending and flowing with tree, branch and leaves amidst their shadows. Mental calculations based on what he’d previously observed told Shikaku when to start curving back again and he felt his focus hone as he drew closer to what _should_ be Kazuma’s next set point. Dark eyes narrowed slightly as he finished the arc of his curve. The air was tinged grey beneath the blue sky and- he realized with his next breath- tasted like, _gunpowder! Shit!_

Shikaku dropped from the canopy again, deliberately and more controlled this time, but with a greater urgency. He’d known as soon as the taste had wafted to his tongue exactly what he’d pushed himself into; what he _didn’t_ know was whether or not the jutsu-user- Shikaku was assuming Asuma- was skilled enough to finish the _Katon: Haisekisho_ without vocalizing that final call. Ears peeled for the slightest hint of human sound, Shikaku lightly landed on the balls of his feet on the forest floor- and then swiftly pivoted on the left as he tossed up his right arm to block the motion of the kunai coming at him. “Clever, Asuma-san,” he drawled, though his eyes glared angrily from behind his mask. Shikaku completed his movement, wrist curving so that he could grip Asuma’s hard, thumb seeking the pressure point that would force him to release his weapon. Asuma’s leg swept out to try and knock his own out, but Shikaku leapt it, pushing himself into a high somersault to land behind the man, catching the kunai in the process, the flat of the blade resting level against _Asuma’s_ throat as he landed. “Using the start of your jutsu to try and catch me off-guard like that.” Shikaku tightened his hold, pushed the blade closer, it now hovering _just_ over Asuma’s skin. “Unfortunately for you, all you managed was to piss me off.”

“Not quite, Okami-san.” Shikaku’s eyes narrowed further, as much from the growled tone as from the rebuttal. “I’m sure you’re _plenty_ pissed off, but I don’t give a damn about that and you’re not the only one. You’re still a Konoha shinobi though, no matter how I feel about your presence, and I wasn’t about to let you walk into-“ Asuma cut off as brilliant bolts of lightning from four equidistant points cut through the now-dusky sky in arcs. “-That,” he muttered as the bolts converged at an apex and then flooded the hemisphere beneath with a brilliant surge of electricity so strong that the fine hairs on Shikaku’s arms and nape rose with it well over a quarter-mile away.

“What was that?”

“ _Raimu Raito_.” Maintaining his hold on Asuma and the blade, Shikaku turned his head to look at Chiriku as the monk joined them. “Everything in that field- every _one_ \- will have been incinerated. And the casters’ chakra will have been utterly depleted. That said, they must have succeeded in luring the traitors in together or they would never have risked activating that technique.” Chiriku gave the captive Asuma a sidelong glance and the slightest bit of a smile. “And it seems I owe you a drink the next time we’re afforded the luxury to. Hokage-sama did, indeed, have a tail on you.”

Asuma snorted softly. “Yeah. Go me for being right.”

 _For fuck’s sake._ Shikaku rolled his eyes at the petulant tone, just barely biting the words back into silence. He’d never subscribed to the school of an emotionless ANBU. There were times when emotion was all that one had to drive them; fear or sorrow, revenge or love. But he also knew he had to keep _some_ sort of filter in place for anonymity’s sake. “That said, Chiriku-san, we’ll take our leave,” he said aloud. “Asuma-san is due back in Konoha for an appointment with the hokage; he is waiting with much anticipation for an update on the attempted coup d’état.”

“Bullshit.”

Shikaku did give into the urge to give Asuma a slight shove at the muttered comment as he released him, though he at least did the courtesy of dropping the kunai first. “Let’s go, Asuma-san.” He paused long enough to give a perfunctory bow to the monk. “Chiriku-san.” His gaze returned to Asuma as he straightened and the monk moved off toward the area where the _Raimu Raito_ had been been set off. “Right. Off we go.“

Kunai still drawn, Shikaku nodded Asuma in front of him. “Today, Asuma-san,” he drawled when the kid deliberately dragged his feet. To Asuma’s credit, he did pick up the pace a bit then, but before they’d gone more than half a mile, the air abruptly shifted. Shikaku tensed, swearing under his breath as a brilliant light suddenly illuminated them from behind; grabbing Asuma’s nearest arm, Shikaku spun them both around, putting Asuma to the ground and his knee to the small of Asuma’s back in a fluid motion. He would drop to a protective crouch if need be but, right then, he was more concerned about the kid taking off on him while he determined what the hell was going on. “What _is_ that?” he muttered impatiently to himself when the light intensified but then almost fizzled out with no apparent accompanying attack.

“Asuma!”

The shout was faint and from the direction of the now-fading light; Shikaku realized at about the same time that Asuma bucked hard beneath him that it had been Chiriku. “Oh no you don’t!” Shikaku growled and he shifted his hold and his weight, but that split second had cost him. Asuma had changed his position just enough to where, when he bucked up again, he was able to get enough momentum to flip them, and Shikaku’s eyes narrowed, his body tensed for the impact of that giant fist driving down toward his mask.

“Asuma!”

Asuma’s gaze shifted minutely and Shikaku struck. Grabbing hold of Asuma’s shirt he got his feet flat beneath him and then, focusing his chakra into his soles, launched. Satisfaction gleamed through his eyes when he saw the shock in Asuma’s as they went several feet into the air. “I said-“ Shikaku shifted his weight and put Asuma’s back parallel to the forest floor. “No you _don’t_!” The last came as he slammed Asuma to the ground with enough force to send the detritus wafting around them. “What is it, Chiriku-san?” Shikaku barked as he heard the monk approach, gaze still locked with the equally as pissed-off one glaring up at him.

“They’re dead!” Shikaku did look up at that; he felt Asuma’s head roll in Chiriku’s direction and, after a second, released his hold just enough so that Asuma could more fully look at his friend. A brow arched when he saw Chiriku’s state. The monk looked barely alive himself- a stark difference from just a few minutes ago. “Kitane. Nauma. Seito. Tou. All four of them!” He fell back heavily against a tree, eyes falling closed.

“The _Raimu Raito_?” he tersely asked, recalling what Chiriku had said about chakra depletion. He felt Asuma tense beneath him and tightened his hold again, flashing a warning look down at his captive. 

“No.” Shikaku’s brow arched as his gaze snapped back to the monk, who looked like he was fighting a losing battle against the urge to vomit. “Kazuma. Kazuma killed them all.” Chiriku lost his fight, doubled over and threw up.

“What?!?” Asuma started to struggle again and, with an impatient growl, Shikaku snapped a hand to Asuma’s throat and forced his head back to the ground. “Damn it, ANBU, at least let me sit,” Asuma growled, further making his displeasure known through the generic address. “You’ve made your point. I’m not going anywhere.” Shikaku stared at Asuma hard for a moment and then, with deliberate slowness, removed his hand from Asuma’s throat to fist in his shirt again. Eyes never leaving Asuma’s, he pulled a kunai- Asuma’s kunai- with his free hand as he at once swung his leg to break his straddle and drew Asuma up, point of the blade coming to a rest just a millimeter or so from Asuma’s jugular as Shikaku finally released him. “Thanks,” Asuma declared sarcastically and then he looked to Chiriku again. “What happened?”

Chiriku slowly wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and straightened; Shikaku could tell from the way the monk’s teeth were set that either the motion or the vomiting- likely both- had pained him. “Kitane was already dead when I got to them,” Chiriku began. “Kazuma had his blade to Tou’s throat. He took off Tou’s head,” Chiriku gritted out. He took a brief second and then, “I knew my _Senjusatsu_ was the only guarantee I had to protect the other two and take Kazuma out, but Kazuma was faster than me. He attacked before I could finish the jutsu; I was caught in the energy flash as it broke and, by the time it cleared, he’d gotten to Seito.” 

Shikaku’s eyes narrowed; Chiriku’s voice was fading, his words coming with more effort. The monk’s arm shifted to try and find a better purchase against the tree as he wavered, and it was then that Shikaku noted a dirty red stain that had begun to seep through the dark grey of Chiriku’s _sanghati_. “I tried to save Nauma but Kazuma-“ Chiriku paused, breathing labored now, and swallowed. “I’m sorry, Asuma. Kazuma got to him first. I-“ 

Chiriku’s eyes fluttered closed; they briefly opened again, but Shikaku noted the blankness in them. “Don’t fucking _move_!” he barked at Asuma. Sheathing the kunai as he leapt, Shikaku managed to catch the unconscious monk mid-slump and ease him to the ground. “Damn it.” 

“I-“ 

“Shut up!” Shikaku snapped, matching Asuma’s glare, holding it as he thought. Five skilled jutsu-users- five skilled _shinobi_ \- taken out in a matter of less than five minutes from the time Chiriku had left them to the first time he’d called Asuma’s name. Shikaku had gone into the mission fully aware of how dangerous any one of the twelve could be but the combination of skill and zealotry had put Kazuma on equal rank with the most treacherous in the ANBU bingo book. And Shikaku had no idea where he was headed. That would largely depend on whether or not his assassination attempt had been successful, but the only way to find that out would be to return to the daimyo’s seat. Shikaku’s gaze briefly dropped to the unconscious monk. Chiriku had no bearing on his personal mission but he would not leave an ally to die- and the fact that _Odoru Honō_ was en route to Konoha took care of both birds for him. “Come here, Asuma-san,” he directed as he shifted his gaze toward the kid, and Shikaku had to smirk when he saw that Asuma had not only stayed quiet upon his order but hadn’t moved. “Take your friend. I’ll do what I can for his injuries here and then we’ll drop him at a medic in the village; see what intel there is on the daimyo’s status before heading home.”

~*~  
Night had fallen by several hours by the time the three of them reached the village. Their start had been delayed due to the need to backtrack to the scene of the massacre and ward was left of the bodies. The traitors who had died had been powerful shinobi in their own right, Asuma had said, but the _Raimu Raito_ was the strongest and most destructive of lightning release techniques and a hidden jutsu known only to the four casters. By rights, they should have destroyed the corpses, but Shikaku didn’t have enough disintegrative agent to take care of them all, and Chirku’s condition hadn’t allowed for them to build a pyre let alone properly burn them. Nine in all; five traitors and four who had sided with Asuma and Chiriku to fight for the tradition that had held their land together for so long—yet all had been friends at one point, and Shikaku could empathize with the emotion that played over Asuma’s face and through his chakra even as the boy took care of the logistics of bringing the remains together, cast the Henge and then set what wards they knew to try and keep the carnivorous animals away long enough for someone to return and properly tend to things.

 

Chiriku wasn’t an overly large man, but dead weight would slow anyone down, and there had been his injuries to consider once they had finally gotten moving. Shikaku had no skill when it came to _iryo ninjutsu_ , but had staved the bleeding better than most would have been able to due to the clotting and antibacterial reagents with which he’d augmented his standard-issue pack. His lips pressed slightly as he watched Asuma gingerly lay Chiriku down on his cot in the barracks. He’d be speaking to the sandaime upon his return about making those powders standard items, and not just for the ANBU. Every Konoha shinobi doing mission-work should have them as part of their usual gear; the packets were small, could easily be self-administered, and were almost ridiculously facile to make. The Nara could readily keep their shinobi supplied in addition to the hospital’s demand.

Movement to Shikaku’s left drew him from the thought. He watched as Asuma straightened, could feel for the worry he saw etched on the boy’s face. Chiriku was in rough condition between Kazuma’s attack- it meant to have killed, Shikaku had no doubt- and the force of such a powerful jutsu having been disrupted before its completion. There was guilt there as well, and anger, which Shikaku knew was- at least in part- directed at him. He had no doubt Asuma was playing the all-too-familiar _had I been there_ game and Okami was why he hadn’t been. Shikaku felt no guilt or remorse over that. He had a job to do and it simply was what it was; one of the reasons why ANBU wore their masks was to keep from being personally targeted. Not that Shikaku would have felt any differently without it. He’d certainly had to do more unsavory things than bring a wayward child home to his father, even without the privacy and protection offered through his mask. “Is there a medic in your barracks?” he asked of Asuma, not so subtly prodding the kid along. “If not, how far do we have to go for one?” he continued, ignoring the disbelieving glare.

“Would I have brought him here if there wasn’t one close?” Asuma demanded in an irritated growl and Shikaku mentally shrugged as Asuma stalked over to the door. He supposed he’d had that one coming. But then again, he could hardly be blamed. Asuma’s persona seemed to waver with the wind’s blow between a petulant brat who thought he knew everything and a man who showed promise of an intelligence and compassion on par with Konoha’s best. “Riki!” Asuma called out into the hall and Shikaku watched as a youth with aubergine hair came skidding to a halt outside the open door. “Go get Aymu; tell him to bring his gear. Chiriku-sohei’s in bad shape. I also need to talk to someone with authority on the daimyo- and then whatever you can scrounge up at this hour for food and drink. For two,” Asuma added with a quick glance in Okami’s direction. “Be quick, Riki,” he added more gently, but with no less urgency before, and then Asuma went back to Chiriku’s bedside. 

Shikaku followed Asuma with his eyes, which then narrowed as they landed on Chiriku. His breathing had become more labored and, cursing softly, Shikaku crossed over to the cot. “What was that jutsu that got disrupted?” he asked tersely as he began to peel back Chiriku’s damaged clothing. “He said _Senjusatsu_ but what does it entail, do you know? Damn it,” he muttered again when his suspicions were confirmed and he found the bandages he’d applied earlier seeped with blood.

“It’s a technique unique to the _sohei_ of _Hi no Tera_ ,” Asuma explained as he took a step back to make more room. “It draws the powers of Kannan, Seishi and the Amida Buddha into the caster’s chakra and can protect or defend.”

Shikaku’s brow arched as he pulled away the last swathe of cotton and then, with a humorless snort, he tossed the fresh roll he’d pulled from his pack to the bed. “Linens anywhere close?” he asked, and then, as Asuma turned, “So it’s probable that the premature disruption of all that energy did more damage than Kazuma’s physical attack,” he stated more than asked.

“Likely, yeah.”

“Shit.” That meant that what he was attempting to do would likely be as effective as slapping gauze and tape on a _chidori_ wound.

“What’s going on, Asuma?”

Shikaku looked up with the new arrival- Aymu, he assumed, given the way the old man bee-lined for the cot- and he moved to the foot of it. Asuma recounted what Chiriku had told of the attack and what Okami had done in the field. “Soon as he patched him up, we headed here,” he finished, voice taut with worry as he added, “But Okami-san picked up on something wrong not long before you came in.”

“I had clotting and antibacterial reagents in my pack but the coagulants didn’t hold, careful as Asuma-san was during the journey,” Shikaku better explained as Aymu examined the wound. “Knowing what I do now of the jutsu that he was attempting to cast at the time-“

“Minimal effectiveness, when considering the extent of the internal damage I’m expecting to find,” Aymu cut him off. The old man glanced at him then. “But good enough to keep him from bleeding out long enough to get him to me. And for that I am grateful, Okami-san.”

Shikaku nodded his acknowledgement and then, after watching the soft green glow of the _iryo ninjutsu_ for a moment, he turned his gaze to Asuma. “Do you have any personal items you need to gather before we leave?” 

“You act like I won’t be coming back.” 

Shikaku rolled his eyes, but kept his voice even. “Do you really think you will be?” he asked. “After all that has happened? Your band has been broken, Asuma-san. The majority of it dead. We both know the truth- that you were protecting the daimyo. But when word gets out of the fissure- and it will, Kazuma will have seen to that- and that you, the sandaime’s son, were present during the attack, there will be those who will question your sincerity. After all, it was your father that Kazuma wanted to depose, and for the greater good of _Hi no Kuni_ , ne?” 

“Okami-san is right, Asuma.” Shikaku’s eyes shifted to Aymu, whose eyes were still focused on his patient. “Even in the short time between the attack and now, I’ve heard wonderings as to whether or not it would have happened at all had a Sarutobi not been so close to the daimyo’s seat and ear. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before others start. You should go now, while it’s still fairly quiet and you can. Especially-“

“Fine!” Asuma snapped before pivoting and stalking out the door. Shikaku’s lips pressed behind his mask and, with a minute shake of his head, he pushed away from the wall against which he’d been resting to follow. 

“I don’t envy you your journey home, Okami-san.” Shikaku paused briefly at the door. “Asuma’s a good man, and it’s precisely that reason that this has been difficult for him. He knew his father’s wishes and missed his home, but felt he could do more good here. After all, what better way to show support of the unity we all so desire for _Hi no Kuni_ than to have the hokage’s eldest son stand in support of the daimyo’s rule, ne? That’s what Asuma’s thought was, anyway. But now, that’s, quite literally, been blown all to hell and not only could he not stop it, it’s not anything he can fix. I’m sure he’s feeling as if he’s returning to Konoha a failure.”

“An unfortunate perception,” Shikaku replied evenly and then, “Please send word of Chiriku-san’s status to Konoha when you can. I am certain Asuma-san won’t be the only one eager to hear of his progress.” He turned just enough to offer a polite nod to the old man’s back and then stepped into the hall. What was more unfortunate was that the sense of failure seemed to be Asuma’s default and Shikaku’s brow briefly furrowed with the thought before he mentally shook himself free of it as Asuma came around the far corner.

“I met Riki on my way to my cell,” he said with a curt nod toward the tray he bore. Shikaku’s brow arched when something flashed through Asuma’s eyes, but it was explained with Asuma’s next: “The daimyo is safe and has been sequestered in an undisclosed location, but that’s all he was permitted to say and, apparently, nobody can spare the time to speak to me. Apparently the Daimyo will send a squad after the bodies and someone to get a report from Aymu. In the meantime, I’ve been dismissed. They’ll send word to Konoha if they decide they need personal testimony.”

Shikaku nodded once, slowly. “So, it’s begun already then.”

“Yeah. Damn it!” The growled expletive was accompanied by a punch to the wall to Asuma’s left. “After everything I did to ensure his safety! He wasn’t even in the mansion, you know; I had him well away and safe, figuring Kazuma was going to make his move, and damned if I wasn’t right, but that doesn’t seem to matter!” Asuma ended his rant as quickly as he’d gone into it, and then his shoulders sagged, defeated. “My cell is this way,” he said with a nod down the hall. “Take what you want from the tray while I’m grabbing my things. Everyone’s either on duty or turned in so you should have privacy in the hallway. I’ll finish whatever’s left once we’re on the way home.”

Shikaku’s eyes narrowed sharply behind his mask as he followed. “And when, exactly, were you going to clue me in on the Daimyo’s status? That was a rather important bit to cast to the side, don’t you think?” _Fucking troublesome brat,_ he muttered through his head when Asuma simply ignored him, and then aloud, “You showed good strategy and read of your enemy, Asuma-san, I will give you that. But something like that should have been communicated. And don’t give me any lip about me being your _father’s man_ and not caring,” Shikaku knifed when Asuma abruptly spun on him. “I serve the Hokage, yes. But, the peace and stability of _Hi no Kuni_ are of primary importance to me, just like they are to you.” 

Surprise flickered through Asuma’s eyes, but then Asuma nodded and continued on. “I would have told you,” he said a second later. Another moment passed. “I should have earlier. But everything got fucked up. And now-“

Shikaku gave a minute shake of his head though it wasn’t seen. “You are no more at fault for the misperceptions that have started to circulate than you are for the treachery that birthed them in the first place.” 

“I know that! Sorry.” Shikaku’s brow that had arched at the snapped response climbed just a bit higher at the muttered apology as they came to a stop. “I know that,” Asuma said in a less inflammatory, if more subdued, tone. “But not being at fault doesn’t make it any less of a failure.”

“And what, exactly, is it that you’ve failed, Asuma-san? No, really,” Shikaku demanded, hints of his impatience seeping into his voice. “You aren’t arrogant or- despite how you act at times- ignorant enough to believe you could have single-handedly stopped Kazuma once he decided to move. And once he did, you took what actions you could to stop him.” 

“Until you stepped in,” Asuma responded drily. He held up a hand then. “I know, Okami-san. Orders. And despite how I’ve acted-“ Shikaku was somewhat surprised to see a slightly amused look sent in his direction as Asuma mimicked his words, “-I don’t hold you personally responsible for it.” The expression fell as quickly as it had come. “You wouldn’t understand,” Asuma finished quietly and he opened the door and stepped through it. “Here,” he said a second later and he passed a chair out to Shikaku, the tray following once the chair had been settled. “Might as well be comfortable for the few minutes it’ll take me to grab my things.”

Shikaku’s eyes rolled when he was told he wouldn’t understand. And just like that, they were back to the self-effacing angst again. He took the chair with a nod when it was offered, but he didn’t say anything more and, once he sat, he examined the items on the tray. Green tea, it looked like, but also two skins of what was probably water; dried meat, _onigiri_ , _nikuman_ ; nearly everything the boy- Riki- had fetched could be eaten on the go, and it emphasized to Shikaku how ready the daimyo and those now protecting him were to be rid of Asuma and any reminder of the now-defunct _Shugonin Junishi_. For Asuma had only asked the boy to bring food; he’d not said anything about it needing to be ‘portable’. 

Shikaku sighed to himself as, after a glance in both directions down the hall, he raised his ANBU mask just enough to permit himself to partake of some of the meat. The tea was enticing him, but he was short on time and the protein in the former would serve him longer than the quick energy boost of the latter. As he chewed, he grabbed one of the skins and uncapped it for a deep drink of the water. Shikaku grimaced slightly as the liquid stirred up the dormant reminders of the charred air he’d been forced to breathe for so long during his hunt, but he let it pass with a quick swish of the water through his mouth before he swallowed. 

The second pull was more refreshing and, after replacing the cap on the skin, Shikaku set it back onto the tray and took another piece of the meat. Asuma was still gathering his things, from the muffled sounds behind him, and Shikaku let his thoughts drift to the kid as his teeth bit through the beef. _You wouldn’t understand_. Shikaku rolled his eyes slightly as he slowly chewed and then his brow furrowed; he’d had a counter thought to that but damned if he could recall what it was, and why was the world still swimming though his gaze had settled? “Damn it,” he muttered thickly and with an overly clumsy tongue, or had he imagined it? Whatever he’d been drugged with was making it hard to tell- and had something really just pushed by him or had he just imagined it, too, in his increasing stupor? 

_’Focus’_ Shikaku told himself as sharply as he could. He was pissed; he could still feel _that_ , and he pushed what remaining clarity he had toward that heated spark, hoping to ignite it enough to see him through some sort of countermeasure. He had one. He knew he did. A jutsu. A genjutsu. His grandmother’s genjutsu. She’d taught it to him as a boy. And he’d giggled every time because it was so very silly, and she’d laugh… 

_’Focus! Rattocheisu tora…’_

_**”No, Shikaku-chibi. Ratto cheisu.”** _

_‘Ratto cheisu tora,’_ Shikaku began again, slowly forming the tiger seal first this time, and _then_ the rat. _’Usagicheisu tora…_ Tiger came again, and then rabbit, the seals even more clumsily made. “Focus,” he mumbled as the drug tightened its hold and the spark of anger nearly snuffed out. “Saru…emi…” Shikaku watched his hands through a grey, heavy fog; it looked to be a good seal, and he could only hope it was as he put all that he had left into a weak, “Hah!” 

For a second or two there was nothing, and then Shikaku became aware of a warmth webbing out through his system from his core. The fog slowly lifted as it spread and he sighed in relief as, eyes still nearly closed, he fumbled for his pack. It had worked. The chakra burst would leave him nearly depleted given what he’d been through already that day, but he would at least be cognizant enough now to administer an antidote and get moving. Shikaku’s teeth gritted slightly as, after finding the injectable, he popped the cap and jammed the needle into his thigh and femoral vein. As if in response, that spark of anger flared to life again, and Shikaku’s eyes narrowed as he tossed the spent cartridge onto the tray that had slid to the floor and slowly stood up. Tanked chakra and dulled reflexes be damned; he was sure he’d find enough to make Asuma regret and then some once he’d caught up to the bastard again. 

~*~

Shikaku continued to nurse that spark of anger as he traveled out of _Odoru Hono_ and back toward Konoha. The burst of chakra had only lasted a handful of minutes, but it had only ever been meant for an emergent, short-term measure, and he was grateful that it had bought him enough time to administer the antidote that was now at war with the sleeper in his system. He was muddleheaded, weak and slow, and low on chakra now as well. That anger was primarily driving him now, not that he’d have given it up even had he been at full capacity. He got Asuma’s want to go after Kazuma- Shikaku had no doubt at all that’s where the kid had gone. And he had a better understanding of Asuma himself now. But the little prick had still drugged him after offering him some show of trust and Shikaku was near as pissed over the one as the other. Asuma had baited the wolf and would pay the price. That was certain.

That he was traveling back through the decimated land didn’t help. The air was still thick with the scents of stale smoke and death; more debris had fallen and it was dark now as well, which made the going slower. But, it was the most direct route to Konoha, and Shikaku couldn’t see Kazuma making any other move than to try and take out the hokage next, especially knowing that his days were likely numbered if he didn’t find some success and protection through his attempted coup.

Shikaku had no doubt that Asuma would have strategized that too, and he found it interesting, how his perception and opinion of the kid had changed through a few days of observation and brief interaction. There was respect where there hadn’t been before, and understanding, and his personal perception of Sarutobi Hiruzen had been tinted a different shade as well. Theirs was a difficult world overall, and a son could take pride in watching his father’s back as he grew, but it was all in the way it was presented. His own father had been haughty and cold, feared, and his family had been shunned because of it. Shikaku had wanted more for himself, more for the children he’d known he’d have some day, and had fought to overtake him and change the path he’d watched that back stalk down. But he felt now that Asuma had probably had it worse, watching his father’s kind benevolence toward his prized students and the village as a whole from a spot so far behind Hiruzen’s back that he couldn’t see enough of it to mimic, let alone reach. Shikaku swore as his foot slipped off of a sooty branch and he bounced off of it on his ass instead. Not that any of that changed a _damned_ thing in regard to the restitution he’d be taking out on the boy.

Eventually, Shikaku broke through the last of the damaged sections. The soft rustle of leaves could be heard again as the wind brought him fresher air; Shikaku breathed deeply of it as he continued forward. Soon enough, he was able to focus a bit better and he veered slightly to the left. The gentle trickle of water had come to him from beneath the nighttime sounds and he was glad to find that the slender stream was flowing into the burned out wood versus out of it. He took off his mask and stuck his face into the water, closed his eyes as he felt the cold prickle to his skin and, after using his first mouthful to rinse the stale away, dipped his head again and drank deeply of it. He felt more awake and alert after, and Shikaku reached for his pack, but then froze when he heard a noise that wasn’t a part of the natural, from a distance and to his forward left. It came again a moment later, a stronger vibration of leaves that told of something disrupting the branches in some shape or form; within seconds, Shikaku’s mask was back on and he was moving again.

Whoever he was tracking was moving fast and Shikaku again cursed the drug that continued to hamper his reflexes and speed. That said, his head was at least clearer now, and his senses were regaining their sharpness—and he would admit to being darkly amused by the thought of Asuma’s expression when he finally caught up to the kid and proceeded to beat the shit out of him for the stunt. If Asuma was still alive once he managed it, he reminded himself grimly. It wasn’t that he doubted the boy’s intelligence or ability. But Asuma had to be running on about as much chakra as he was, and Shikaku had no doubt that, at that point, revenge was driving Asuma, not logic. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it had become clear to him that Asuma hadn’t learned to temper those stronger emotions- to harness and control them versus letting them wrest the reins. For as closely as the twelve had worked together, Kazuma would know that too and, from what he’d gathered regarding the bastard’s intelligence and cunning, Shikaku had no doubt Kazuma would use that to his advantage. Shikaku’s jaw ticked as he resisted the urge to try and force more speed. He’d gotten lucky when he’d slipped that last time and he knew he couldn’t yet risk it. He’d just have to work with what he had and, if Asuma did die before he could get to him, it’d be his own damned fault for having drugged him. 

The wind had picked up and Shikaku briefly stopped. Eyes closed, he pushed his focus outward. _There_. He was still on the right track- he just needed a slight shift to the east- plus, the sounds from his quarry were closer, and Shikaku pushed off again knowing that, the next time he stopped, it would either be for capture or battle.

Nothing changed within the first two miles, save for the sound growing steadily nearer. At the third, however, it grew more muffled again, which told Shikaku that whomever he was after had picked up on the fact that they were being tracked. Features set grimly, Shikaku kept his focus on ensuring that his prey remained within earshot instead of worrying about a reciprocal increase in speed; if nothing else, it might encourage a false sense of security in the runner and he would slow—and allow Shikaku to gain some ground again.

For a fair while, the two remained evenly paced, but then the sound ahead changed dramatically. Shikaku heard the leaves shake violently instead of the gentle rustle he’d been following; Asuma or Kazuma, he wasn’t sure which, but one had caught the other between leap and landing, he was sure and, swearing under his breath, he dropped from the branches to the forest floor. He couldn’t avoid the push for additional speed now, but at least by being on the ground, he’d only be dropping from his feet to his face versus from however far up and through branches if he fell.

The wind picked up as Shikaku ran and the second gust brought the scent of ash. A tear of lightning through the sky told that the fire jutsu had failed in taking out its target- Kazuma, Shikaku surmised when he caught the scent of water on the air. As far as he knew, Asuma knew no water jutsu. A few seconds more and he could hear the sounds of their fight; a minute beyond that and he could make out their words versus the simple rise and fall of their voices. As he’d suspected, Kazuma was taunting Asuma, calling both the boy and his father a traitor to their land and, when Shikaku finally gained clear sight of the small break through the thinning trees, he roughly swore. 

Asuma had given up on any form of jutsu whatsoever and was driving toward Kazuma, fists raised—exactly what Kazuma had been after, judging by the bastard’s expression and Shikaku’s eyes quickly assessed his posture as well. There was _something_ spiraling in Kazuma’s left hand, which had been pulled slightly behind his back. Swearing again, Shikaku glanced upward and then quickly formed the seals for the _Kagezukami no Jutsu_ , knowing it would be the only sure way to keep Asuma alive at that point. Snaking what he had of his shadow out to grab the slight one the moon had afforded Asuma through the trees, he then used the combined mass to roughly toss Asuma to the end of the clearing furthest from Kazuma’s reach. 

Releasing his hold just as quickly, Shikaku turned his attention to Kazuma. A slight shift in the wind pattern caused the moonlight to waver with the leaves at the top of the trees and Shikaku had to re-hone his focus. It was a mere second before his shadow had strengthened again, but it had been enough time for Kazuma to come out of his shock and release the jutsu at him instead of Asuma. Heartrate increasing, Shikaku judged the rapidity of his shadow against the sharpened streams of water Kazuma had shot from his palm. The odds were _not_ in his favor and he tried to augment the shadow’s speed, but had to drop it, tuck and roll at the last second. As it was, one of the pin-thin shoots on the outer edge of Kazuma’s pattern caught his mask and sliced through it and into his cheek; Shikaku hissed, both from the intensity of the pain and from the thought of what it would have done to him had he caught them all full-brunt. ANBU masks were of porcelain construct and the water had cut through it as easily as a knife through butter. 

Blood ran freely from the wound, a trickle teasing the corner of his mouth; Shikaku absently darted his tongue out for it as he rose to reassess the situation. Asuma must have recovered rather quickly from the throw because the thin moonlight that had made its way to the clearing before had become shrouded in a thickening grey. Shikaku’s eyes narrowed as he tried to keep focus on Asuma through it even as he slid back a few steps and steeled himself. He smelled neither ash nor gunpowder, but that didn’t mean Asuma didn’t have some other sort of ignition trick up his sleeve. Shikaku knew now that, with a few fallibilities, Asuma wasn’t one to take at face-value. However, nothing came; the accumulation actually started to dissipate and Shikaku’s brow furrowed. Just as quickly, Shikaku’s brows shot up. “Damn it!” he muttered and he dashed into the clearing field; as suspected, Asuma was charging across it, the kid having used the filtering substance as a mask for his physical attack— a near-duplication of how he’d fooled Shikaku earlier that day. 

Unfortunately, whereas Shikaku- much to his disgruntlement- had been caught unaware, Kazuma had been ready, and Asuma had to abort his strike to avoid being struck by Kazuma’s weapon as it swung out. Kazuma expertly wielded the _kusari_ and Shikaku could tell by the sound as it whorled that there were several weights on the end of the chain; Asuma couldn’t even charge let alone make another strike, and Shikaku cast his eyes around and then again lowly cursed. The debris in the air was still too thick for him to even find a shadow let alone snag it. His eyes narrowed slightly. However, that- coupled with the wind-noise of Kazuma’s weapon and the natural rustling of the leaves- could work to his advantage. Provided he had enough of his balance back to where he didn’t just fall right back to the ground, Shikaku thought wryly as he leaped into the nearest tree. 

It didn’t take long for Shikaku to make his way around to the other side of the clearing. By then, Asuma was near backed to the edge of it, and he could tell the kid’s energy was waning by the clumsy ducks and jumps he was making to avoid attack. He at least still had hold of his weapons, which was something, and Shikaku turned his attention to Kazuma then. He was fast, but the pattern was predictable: high swing, arm extended. Arm closer to the body for a low swing. A twist at the elbow to bring the _kusari_ up, and then a thrust forward as he advanced during the midrange. Eyes narrowing, Shikaku silently unsheathed his katana as he watched one more time just to ensure that he had it right, and then he dropped, weapon raised over his head. With a wordless shout, he brought the blade down as he landed and severed Kazuma’s arm at the elbow as it extended with the start of his pattern again. “Asuma, now!” he shouted before leaping over the weapon and twitching appendage, and out of the way. 

If Asuma was shocked, he didn’t show it; with a shout of Kazuma’s name, he barreled forward, arms crossed in front, a blade of sorts in each hand. In a matter of seconds it was over and Shikaku stepped forward to Asuma’s side and stared down. Asuma’s cuts had been clean and deadly, they running from the jugular on either side to cross on the breastbone and continue down. Had they been any deeper, Kazuma’s head would likely have been on the ground with his arm. Still and all, Shikaku knelt to more closely examine the body but it only took a moment or two before he looked up at Asuma and nodded. There was no trickery to be found; no sign of life, and Shikaku stood and reached into his pack. “Get him taken care of,” he ordered curtly, tossing Asuma a couple of packets of dissolvent and then he turned away, removing his broken mask as he did so. His jaw ticked when the action caused the fissure to completely snap and the bottom piece of to fall to the ground. It wasn’t the first mask that had been broken in his tenure but it would be the last. Okami would hunt no more and that pissed him off even more than the drugging.

Bending at the waist, Shikaku scooped up the piece of porcelain with a gentleness that belied the anger coursing through his system. Leaving Asuma to tend to the corpse, Shikaku moved back to the tree line and sat, back against one of the larger boles. The right side of his face ached and felt tight; the latter was from the drying blood, Shikaku knew, and he supposed it was something that the wound was no longer flowing. He grimaced slightly. Best to leave well enough alone, he decided; he didn’t have any clotting reagent, having used it all on Chiriku, and he could tell from the depth of the damage that a scar was inevitable anyway. Shikaku briefly closed his eyes, pulled his focus inward; after a moment, he opened them again. He couldn’t sense any sign of infection, which was good—though he’d take a prophylaxis anyway once they found some potable water. 

A gentle flicker of light caught Shikaku’s attention and he sharply lifted his gaze to where Asuma stood, watching the last of Kazuma’s body disintegrate. It had been unexpected but nothing seemed out of the norm and, after a moment, Shikaku let it pass. The moonlight had been tumultuous at best with the breeze through the leaves; he was tired and still felt off, and he stood and slid the pieces of his mask into his pack. Right now all he wanted was to return to the stream, clean up, drink and then rest. The latter was an unfortunate necessity, though Shikaku knew he wouldn’t sleep. It was a luxury he still didn’t feel he could afford; Asuma had managed his revenge but, right then, Shikaku didn’t trust him not to bolt for the sheer spite of it. 

Decision made, Shikaku got to his feet again. “Asuma,” he called out, and the kid started and then looked across the clearing at him. “We’re going.” His brow arched sharply when, with an abrupt, and angry, scowl, Asuma spun on him as he drew close.

“What the hell were you doing?” 

Shikaku halted his step, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” 

“Kazuma wasn’t your mission, Shikaku-san. This was _my_ fight. I didn’t need your help, any more than I needed to be babysat!”

The snark and disdain with which those words were delivered was the absolute last straw. Eyes mere slits and gleaming with anger, Shikaku snagged the first shadow he could and rapidly webbed it out. “You stupid, arrogant, sonovabitch!” Shikaku snarled as the _kage nui no jutsu_ took Asuma around either shoulder and his waist; with a flick of his fingers, he sent the kid flying. Angry satisfaction gleamed through his eyes at the thunk and pained grunt Asuma gave when he flew into the tree and he advanced. “You wouldn’t have a clue even if I tried to tell you,” he continued in that same, pissed off tone. “You talk about protecting this land and what it stands for but your self-perception’s skewed your vision to where you can’t see clear enough to do it!” 

“What-“ 

Shikaku slammed his free hand against the bole of the tree, just to the left of Asuma’s face. “Shut up. You are in _no_ fucking position to interrupt me, let alone try to correct or convince me. Especially after all the shit you pulled. You’ll listen and, if you have anything to say by the time I’m done, you’ll have your chance. Or, I could beat you to within an inch of your life, which is more what you deserve for the fucking sleeper stunt alone. So think carefully. Because, right now, the latter sounds infinitely more appealing to me and it isn’t going to take but another nudge before I’ll be making that choice for you. Got it?” Shikaku watched as the petulance that had flared in Asuma’s eyes at the start shifted to shock at the threatened beating and then back again when Shikaku warned him just how close to the line he was. Jaw tight, Asuma shifted his gaze away and, with a low growl, Shikaku tightened his hold, shadows binding Asuma tighter to the tree. The kid grunted; whether in pain or acquiescence, Shikaku didn’t know, but he didn’t really care either. “Got it?” he repeated, a hint of warning to his tone, and he nodded when he got a curt one as response. “Good.”

Shock flickered through Asuma’s eyes again, and Shikaku snorted softly and shook his head, irritation flaring. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you. Even me. Your father’s man. Just following the hokage’s orders. You know who I am now, Asuma. And you know I am no man’s man.” His teeth flashed in a feral grin with no trace of amusement behind it. “Okami’s mask is broken, but the fangs and claws are mine. I follow your father because, through him, I can see to what’s best for my house and my land, both of which you threatened when you fucking drugged me.” The shadows tightened further as his anger flared. “Your father’s wishes be damned; do you really think you’d still draw breath if I didn’t think there was _something_ of value within you?” 

Defiance gave way to guilt in Asuma’s eyes and then surprise with the last; Shikaku’s lips pressed slightly when he noticed that. The self-denigrating remarks, the hotheaded, reckless behavior, the perpetual sense of failure Shikaku had noted… Shikaku wasn’t surprised that the kid had been caught off guard by his declaration, and the sharpness in his eyes and tone softened a bit. “You told me earlier on that I wouldn’t understand. You were wrong. You have this ridiculously high standard to which you hold yourself because you have it in your head you’ll never match up. You’ll never be your father, or the family man your brother is. You’ll never be a Jiraiya or a Tsunade. And you sure the hell can’t compete with an entire village.” Asuma turned his head to avoid Shikaku’s gaze, a dull red having crept to his cheeks; Shikaku mentally sighed and then firmly grasped the boy’s chin and forced it back. “So what?” he demanded as he held the darker eyes. “None of that means you’re not good enough or a failure. I’ve seen you fight and have heard you talk. You’re a good man, Asuma. Your ideals, your love for your country; your will of fire burns as strong as any I’ve seen. The daimyo saw it. Your companions saw it. Hell, they died having faith in you. Your only failure and weakness lies in that you can’t find your way past what you wish your father saw in you to realize it.”

"But he’s my father.” 

“I know. And he’s a good man.” Shikaku slowly let his hand fall, though he continued to hold Asuma’s gaze. “But he is only one man, Asuma. In a world full of them. There are other backs in Konoha to watch, other methods of finding your way. Stop worrying about reaching your father’s and put your focus on leapfrogging over that obstacle instead, just as I did.”

“I remember your father.” Asuma smirked then, thought it was tinged with sheepishness. “I remember being afraid of you because of him.” 

Shikaku snorted in amusement. “Oh, you should be afraid of me,” he cautioned. “I am not my father any more than you are yours but I do share some of his traits. I still owe you for drugging me and I will have my vengeance for that. I just need to decide how to collect my recompense for it.” Something shifted in Asuma’s eyes before they jumped to the shadows binding him and then lifted, wide, back to his own; Shikaku’s brow arched and then he snorted. “You really don’t have a clue about me,” he flatly declared. 

“What?” 

Shikaku growled lowly at the overtly innocent tone and the shadows binding Asuma tightened again. “Don’t play dumb. I know exactly what you were thinking and I’ve never been so pissed as to take that from a man against his will.” He saw the color rise in Asuma’s cheeks and the boy’s head turned again; Shikaku again took hold of his chin and forced the dark eyes back. “Disappointed?” he taunted, giving into his renewed ire, and then his brow quirked when Asuma’s color deepened and he dropped his gaze away even as he gave a defiant-- 

“No!”

Shikaku took a step closer and Asuma reflexively looked up; a slow smirk once again crept over Shikaku’s face. “Hn.” The kid’s eyes had dilated, the tint to his cheeks and his behavior also belying his denial; Shikaku shifted his weight forward enough to lightly press against him and his teeth sharply flashed when Asuma’s breath first caught, and then sped. “Liar.” 

Shikaku’s intent had been to capture only, maybe scare a bit of sense into the kid with his last. But the boy didn’t seem to be objecting to the treatment and Asuma’s solid muscle and strength were undeniably a tease-- and it had been far too long since he’d played. “Maybe I will fuck the stupid out of you after all,” he murmured, and then he lowly laughed as he teased his leg against Asuma’s groin. “Though I won’t promise it’d be any easier on you than a beating would.” Asuma shivered and Shikaku moved his leg again, growling low in his throat when he realized Asuma was hard already. “Last chance, Boy,” he muttered, mouth against Asuma’s ear, Shikaku’s own breaths coming a bit faster now. Asuma wasn’t dumb. The light had steadied as the moon had climbed higher but, even so, all he’d need to do would be to call upon his dust or ash and Shikaku’s hold would be broken. But Asuma still didn’t move or refute him again and, with a deep, discreet breath, Shikaku gave into it. “Fine.” He kissed Asuma hard and fast then, Shikaku’s tongue running over his own lower lip to chase the taste of new blood as he pulled back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Shikaku dropped his hand to Asuma’s waistband, gave an impatient tug to the sash that marked him as one of the _Shugonin_. It was in the way, especially one-handed, and his hold on the binds briefly loosened. A soft sound drew his gaze back up and his brow arched slightly; leaving the sash for a moment, Shikaku focused on the jutsu alone, watched how Asuma’s expression changed when the shadows grew taut again: eyes shading, jaw slackening in his pleasure. _Fuck_ , he muttered to himself, his own dick taking prompt, and avid, interest in that little tidbit of information, and he cursed Asuma again for the day that had drained so much of his chakra. Shikaku could only imagine the fun he’d have with the boy were he at full strength. His eyes gleamed as he went back to working at Asuma’s waistband. Then again, given Asuma’s reaction thus far, he didn’t think he’d have to do much convincing to get a second go at some point.

The sash now tucked up into itself, Shikaku made quick work of Asuma’s fly. Tongue lightly resting on his upper lip, Shikaku tugged at the material, a pleasured sound rumbling low in his throat when Asuma’s dick sprung free. “Not bad, Boy,” he murmured and he glanced up again as he ran a finger up the impressive length and then over the damp head. Asuma’s color heightened again and the boy closed his eyes. Shikaku chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he dipped his head close to murmur. “I quite like it that you’re so wet and greedy; means I won’t have to take my time.” Asuma groaned and Shikaku’s gut briefly tightened. The almost wanton submissiveness had _not_ been expected but he wasn’t about to question it. He wanted to fuck the boy so he couldn’t walk straight right then, not analyze him. 

Bringing his hands together again, Shikaku quickly shifted the shadows, eyes locking on Asuma’s face as the ones at his waist slithered down to tendril across his cock and groin before disappearing whilst the ones at his shoulders raced up either arm to grab each wrist and bind them together high above Asuma’s head. “Don’t you dare come before I’m inside you, Boy,” he growled as he watched Asuma bite back a cry, cock dripping, his head dropping back against the tree. He gave Asuma a minute as he unfastened his pack and let it fall, and then tended to his fly. “On your knees,” he murmured as he took a step forward, lightly stroking his partially erect cock. Shikaku’s eyes gleamed when, with a dart of tongue over his lips, Asuma complied. “Suck me full,” he ordered next as he put his tip to Asuma’s mouth and his eyes shaded when Asuma bobbed his head forward and took him in. “That’s right.” Resting his forearms against the tree, Shikaku rocked his hips forward as he shifted his hand sign again and sent a shadow trickling down to caress Asuma’s cheek. “Good boy.” 

The sound Asuma gave in exchange for the praise explained a _lot_ to Shikaku. An empathy of sorts pricked at the back of his brain and hungry eyes softened at the edges as he watched the kid suck at his dick like it was some sort of treat. He thought about how he’d watched Chiriku that first night and wondered now if Asuma _had_ known but just hadn’t thought himself worth it; the empathy pricked stronger and, with a slow blink of his eyes, Shikaku filed it all away for later thought. He silently snorted. Not that he should have been surprised that the emotional had trickled into the physical after the past several days chasing the kid. Asuma had given him plenty of surprises and food for thought. But it wasn’t the time or place for it and, after teasing the shadow over Asuma’s cheek again, Shikaku cascaded it further to tickle along the pulse beneath the boy’s strong jaw and then under the loose shirt he wore. 

Asuma’s breath caught around his dick as he teased over a nipple, Shikaku surmised, and then his gaze dropped as Asuma resumed his rhythm, Shikaku watching the shadow emerge beneath the hem of Asuma’s shirt. “You’re good,” he murmured as the shadow snaked lower to wend around Asuma’s cock. “Such a hot, wet mouth. I’d be tempted to fuck it ‘til I came if I didn’t want your ass so bad,” he finished and the shadow slithered away over Asuma’s balls, Shikaku’s eyes briefly closing as he visualized it creeping along Asuma’s taint and finding his hole. The boy cried out around him, the sound muffled and thick; Shikaku didn’t know if it was his words or the teasing but it didn’t matter to him and, after a slow, deep thrust into Asuma’s throat, he let the lower shadow drop and arched away. “Get up and turn around,” he ordered in a rasp and then, with another quick hand sign, bound Asuma’s raised arms to the tree once he’d complied. 

Breathing hard, Asuma glanced over his shoulder; held Shikaku’s gaze as he kicked a leg from his pants. “That’s right, boy. Good. Now show me that ass,” he muttered, and Shikaku’s hand found his dick again in a lazy stroke as Asuma shifted his legs further apart and then bent slightly. Shikaku’s eyes greedily ran over him and then, manipulating the shadows one last time, he sent them webbing across Asuma’s ass and into his crevasse to open him wide. A softly hissed breath and then Shikaku stepped forward and put the tip of his dick to Asuma’s hole. “I’m gonna split you in half, boy,” he growled into Asuma’s ear and then he grabbed Asuma’s waist and snapped his hips, burying himself to the balls in a single thrust. 

Asuma tensed, and hard, every fiber of that long, hard body seeming to shout from the force of Shikaku’s penetration, but the only sound that came was a ragged draw of air; eyes gleaming, Shikaku dipped his head forward again, muttering praise against Asuma’s willing ear as he ruthlessly pounded into him. The boy was tight and hot and took everything he was given, pushing back to meet him, even, and Shikaku told him how good he felt, how good of a fuck he was, words coming in growled tenor as he drove himself toward his peak. The moonlight shifted, a cloud perhaps, and Shikaku’s hold on the shadows slipped; a smirk briefly flashed when Asuma’s arms didn’t move from where he’d bound them. “Good boy,” he praised again as he dropped the hand that had been controlling the binds to Asuma’s cock. It was so hard and slick and Shikaku fairly purred his pleasure as he tightly gripped it. Asuma’s hips jerked and his ass grew tight in response; Shikaku cursed roughly and started to stroke him hard as he found himself abruptly on that edge. Asuma’s breath caught; Shikaku watched his head drop forward, jaw tense, and Shikaku’s gut tightened almost painfully. “It’s alright, Boy. Come,” he soothed against Asuma’s ear and, as he drove in again, Asuma let go. 

Shikaku’s eyes gleamed in a feral flash as the wet heat spilled over his fist. Growling low in his throat, he pistoned into the spasming tightness one last time and then ground hard and deep as his orgasm tore through him. His hips jerked hard with the force; flesh against flesh, the press of hard muscle, the wet slide of his hand around Asuma’s still-leaking dick and Asuma’s scent, the primality of the act and their surroundings-- it pulled at something deep inside him and, turning his head, he silenced the sound clawing at him to get out by biting into Asuma’s back, marking him just beneath his left shoulder. The boy did cry out at that, his waning erection feebly leaping in Shikaku’s grip; Shikaku lowly chuckled and lazily wiped his tongue over his mark as both came to him through the ether he’d briefly ascended to, and then he pulled out and spun Asuma around. “Troublesome brat. I’ll have to gag you next time,” he darkly warned, even as a finger traced a trail of blood that ran from the corner of Asuma’s mouth and told of the measure the kid had taken to keep himself quiet. A brief, almost gentle, kiss to the dry, damaged lips and Shikaku pulled away. “Come on.” He briefly sucked at that digit, eyes lightly gleaming at the combined taste of Asuma’s blood and come. “Grab your shit. We’re going back to the stream to clean up and camp for the night.” 

Shikaku did up his pants and then indulged in a lazy stretch before grabbing his pack. A quick glance told him that Asuma had done the same and he nodded to the kid, indicating that Asuma should go before him. “I told you before that you’d have a chance to speak once I’d finished with you,” he reminded as they made their way back to the stream. “Did you have anything you wanted to say?” he glanced over at Asuma, mentally shook his head when he noted the surprise in his eyes, but Shikaku didn’t comment on it. Time would break that habit as Asuma came to understand that his voice, when used properly, mattered and would be heard. 

“No,” came the reply, and it was Shikaku’s turn to be surprised, it translated through an arched brow. “I think you nailed pretty much everything,” Asuma admitted quietly, though without the sense of defeat Shikaku had noted earlier on. Asuma’s tone was more thoughtful now than resigned and Shikaku could only hope that the kid was taking at least some of his words to heart. “I do have one question though,” Asuma tacked on after a minute. Shikaku met his gaze when he glanced over to him. “How’d you work your way through the sleeper so quickly?” 

Shikaku blinked and then loosed a bark of laughter as they came to a halt beside the stream. “After everything, _that’s_ what’s eating at you most right now?” he demanded in amusement, and then his brow lifted again as he dropped his pack and started to strip off his clothes. “And you still need to ask, even knowing now who Okami is- or, was,” he corrected wryly as his head emerged from the black, high-necked shirt he wore under his ANBU vest. 

“I am sorry about that, Shikaku-san.” Asuma’s apology was sincere and appropriately sheepish; after a second or two, Shikaku waved it away. 

“Some things are worth the sacrifice,” he said quietly, a slight smirk briefly showing when he saw that surprise again. “I knew it was likely to happen, as did your father. And as for the sleeper, my grandmother taught me a jutsu rhyme when I was very young to help me as I went through the tolerance protocols passed down through my family. Though I will say that the fact that it was one of my own helped.” He snickered at the expression on Asuma’s face. “I realized that when I remained cognizant long enough to work the rhyme,” he explained as he dropped the shirt and stepped, naked, into the rapidly moving water. Shikaku hissed softly; it was cold as ice and only just up to his knees at the narrow middle, but refreshing, and he knelt and scooped some water up to pour over his face and head. The cold caused the fresh wound on his face to sting and Shikaku grimaced, though a sigh followed on its heels when, with the next breath, it had numbed. “I have one for you now,” he said as Asuma stepped out of his pants and then off the bank to join him. “Why’d you use the dust release on Kazuma instead of the gunpowder? I know you wanted to take him out with your hands but you’d have fooled your way to a clean shot at him then.” 

“Like I did you, ne?” Asuma said pertly. 

Shikaku gave him a flat look but the kid just snickered and dunked his head under the water; Shikaku let a smirk climb as he snorted softly and shook his head, the gesture widening when his eyes caught a flash of the mark he’d left on Asuma’s back. _Troublesome brat_.

“I was too low on chakra,” Asuma explained as, after lifting his head from the stream, he shoved the long hair from his eyes. “The dust was all I could manage.” 

“Hn. Fair enough.” Shikaku finished his makeshift bath and then stepped free from the stream; after squeezing the water from his hair, which he hadn’t bother to unbind, he padded along the edge of the creek to collect a small bit of wood. “Lighter?” he asked of Asuma once he’d dropped it into a tidy pile. “And I’ll take one of those cigarettes too,” he declared as he watched the kid bend for his jacket. Asuma tossed him the pack as it was and Shikaku shook out the lighter and a smoke; after lighting the latter, he started gathering some of the detritus lying about to get the fire going. He felt Asuma’s eyes on him and looked up; shifted the cigarette to the corner of his mouth. “What?” He struck the flint and set the flame to the needles and leaves. 

“Just thinking about what you said.” Shikaku nodded and tossed the pack, with lighter, back to Asuma. “Trying to decide where I’m going to go from here.” 

“From here?” Shikaku stood and stalked over to his trousers, dry enough now to put them back on. “That’s a no brainer, boy. You’re going home and straight to your father so I can put this pain-in-the-ass mission to rest.” 

There was silence for a second or two and then a low snort. “You’re an asshole.” 

Shikaku shrugged, unfazed, and, after fastening his fly, he turned. “I know what you meant, Asuma,” he said after studying the boy’s profile, the shadows cast by the fire making it seem all the more pensive. “And you take what you’ve learned from this experience, decide what you want to do with it, and go forward.” Asuma looked over at him then and Shikaku steadily held his gaze. “You will find what you need on your way and you will figure it out. I am confident in that.” He took a last drag off the cigarette and flicked the butt into the flames; when he looked over again, a fair bit of the heaviness had lifted from Asuma’s posture. “I’ve got first watch,” he decided after a moment’s thought. “Get some sleep. Leave the cigarettes.” He caught the pack when it was tossed back to him and then settled low in a tree where he could see Asuma, the trail and the fire, his eyes gleaming thoughtfully in the tiny flame as he struck the flint and lit up again. Shikaku knew that Yoshino would gripe when she caught the smoke odor on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She knew of the habit- of all his proclivities, in fact- and he'd told her at the start of their arrangement that, while he would compromise for her and their children, he would not fully give up either his preferences or his pleasures. Smoke was conducive to thought and his mind was cluttered with them. She would get over it.  
~*~  
The night was several hours old by the time Shikaku and Asuma neared Konoha. The few hours’ rest had been good for them both and they’d made good time upon waking. There hadn’t been much conversation; Shikaku wasn’t the sort and Asuma, Shikaku had been able to tell, had been too lost to his thoughts to initiate it. He just hoped the kid was sorting through shit instead of in his head wallowing in it. 

About a mile out, Shikaku paused long enough to cast a _henge_ over his face to replicate the broken mask. The comings and goings of ANBU weren’t questioned whereas Nara Shikaku hadn’t reported out at any of the gates. “You go in through the main entrance and I’ll take the east,” he said to Asuma as they got moving again. “The only one beyond me who knew the nature of my mission was your father,” he said when Asuma looked askance at him. “There’s no need for you to arrive with me and get anyone’s curiosity up. And I’m fairly confident you’ve pulled enough of your head out of your ass to know what will happen if you try and run.” He smirked when the gratitude that had risen in Asuma’s eyes shifted to a mix of amusement and annoyance as the kid nodded. “Good. We’ll meet outside of the academy and cross over to the mansion from there.” 

Shikaku’s entry into the village went as seamlessly as anticipated. A glance at his mask, a slightly awed look when it was recognized, a respectful bow and he was in. He didn’t anticipate that Asuma would have issue either; while not all the shinobi who directly served the hokage approved of his comings and goings, they were aware of them, and he wasn’t surprised when Asuma was only a minute or so behind him.

With a nod, Shikaku directed Asuma forward and Shikaku fell into step behind him. They were let in without question once they crossed, the gates having made quick contact, and Shikaku saw Asuma draw a breath and square his shoulders as they made their way to the sitting room off of the main foyer. The hokage was waiting and the man stood as they entered. Shikaku’s first thought was how Asuma seemed to tower over him now; an interesting observation, but one he let pass as he bowed. 

“Well done, Okami.” Shikaku straightened as the sandaime continued. “You have my gratitude.” 

“Lord.” Shikaku watched as Hiruzen then turned to his son. 

“Asuma.”

“Father.”

“You may way outside while Okami and I debrief.” 

Hurt flashed through Asuma’s eyes at the dismissal, anger hot on its heels. The boy opened his mouth; Shikaku shot him a sharp look of warning. “Yes, Father,” Asuma replied instead in a voice taut, but without edge; nodding to them both, Asuma stepped back out to the foyer. 

As the door closed, the sandaime turned his attention back to Shikaku. “Sit, Shikaku.” Shikaku nodded and chose the chair closest to where he stood. “I truly am pleased things went so well and that you managed him in so soon after the reported attack,” the hokage continued as he took the more prominent chair. 

“Not flawlessly though.” Shikaku released his henge then and Hiruzen’s lips pressed. 

“I see. He did not come willingly then.” 

“No, Lord. It wasn’t like that at all.” Shikaku removed his broken mask from his pack and, placing it in front of him on the low table that sat between them, told the hokage of the battle between Asuma and Kazuma. “Asuma fought well but his earlier efforts had left him depleted, and Kazuma was very good. I left it as long as I dared but, at one point, Kazuma caught Asuma off guard and I had to use my jutsu to pull him out of the line of attack.” 

“Hnn.” The sandaime nodded and then lifted his eyes from the mask to Shikaku’s. “I am sorry that it came to that, Shikaku.” 

Shikaku shrugged. “As I told Asuma, some things are worth the sacrifice. Your son fought hard and bravely for our land and ideals, and our daimyo lives because of him. His is a life I am proud to have given Okami’s in exchange for. 

Hiruzen nodded again, slowly this time. “Yet it all could have been avoided had he heeded my request in the first place. I swear, I don’t know what to do with the boy,” he sighed. 

“Give him to me, Sandaime-sama.” The sandaime looked at him in question and Shikaku evenly met the piercing gaze. “Okami can no longer hunt but he can still train and guide. And Asuma has potential. He cares about his village and land and has shown the extent to which he’ll go for those ideals. Let me take him. Put me back into the missions rotation and assign Asuma to my cell. I will tame his hot head and, by the time I am done, you will have a jounin fit to protect, and mentor, Konoha's king.” 

The sandaime studied him hard for a long moment, but then something akin to relief settled into his eyes. “Very well. I will leave Asuma to you then. Now, what else is there of your mission to tell me, Shikaku?”

“No more than that, Sandaime-sama. As I’m sure you surmised from the timing of my messenger bird, the attack on the daimyo occurred shortly after I reported in from my respite. I left in pursuit of Asuma immediately after that and he willingly submitted after his battle with Kazuma, after which I brought him here. My mission ends there; the rest was just routine travel and incidentals. The daimyo’s rescue and the final fracture of the reigning guardian twelve are Asuma’s stories to tell.” Shikaku rose and then bowed at the waist. “I’ll take my leave if I may; I am certain Yoshino is eager for news and I need to let her know of my return to active duty tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Hiruzen rose and then chuckled; Shikaku looked askance as he straightened from his bow. “I do not envy you your return home tonight, Boy. Yours was caught sleeping in class again and had a note sent home with him per Iruka’s report. I am not certain your announcement will be a welcome one.”

Shikaku briefly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His own boy was troublesome enough, as much as he loved him; what was he thinking, taking on another one? “Likely not.” He dropped his hand away and then gave a wry smirk. “But she’ll get over it.” He bowed to the hokage again and then made his exit. “Yes, Lord,” he paused long enough to reply when asked to send Asuma in on his way out.

Asuma’s gaze promptly shifted in Shikaku’s direction as Shikaku stepped into the foyer. The emotions that had fueled the dark gaze before had faded to a sort of impatient resignation; Shikaku could accept that, realizing he would have felt the same had he been left hanging to some unknown fate being doled out by an authority figure that would not be denied. It was improvement already, Shikaku thought, that Asuma was managing to look beyond those emotions tied to the concept of ‘father’ to see Sarutobi Hiruzen as what he was to them all: The authoritarian who, essentially, held absolute rule over their small piece of this warrior’s world.

Shikaku took the few steps until he was across from Asuma where the kid stood at one of the windows. “Sandaime will give you the details, but I don’t mind briefing you since you’re mine now.” He paused, a brief smirk rising when he saw the expression on Asuma’s face—a mixture of disbelief, excitement and a scant bit of apprehension that pulled a chuckle from Shikaku’s throat. “Why so surprised, Boy?” he taunted. “I’ve already branded you, ne?” Shikaku’s teeth flashed when Asuma colored, but then the man sobered. “Starting tomorrow, though. I have another wayward whelp and an angry mother to deal with tonight, and you have the hokage waiting.” He continued on and then paused at the door. “Tomorrow, we start with shogi. I’m going to teach you about the king,” he informed before slipping out into the dark like one of his shadows.


End file.
